


New Jersey isn’t Siberia, Steve. In fact, it’s quite civilized.

by MFLuder



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Ableist Language, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 08:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13760091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MFLuder/pseuds/MFLuder
Summary: Grace considers for another moment. “Okay.” But she stays right next to him, leaning into Danny’s left side a little, eating the last few bites of cereal, also watching Steve work his way up the driveway. “You gonna tell him?”“Not yet,” Danny chuckles, placing a hand on her shoulder and plopping a kiss on her head.“Dad. That’s not nice.”She doesn’t go outside to tell Steve, either, though, and Danny realizes they’re all kind of jerks.





	New Jersey isn’t Siberia, Steve. In fact, it’s quite civilized.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired because I too spent over an hour shoveling today and crafting this story in my head got me through it. Every day Hawaii sounds better and better.
> 
> Unbetaed.

Danny wakes up huddled under a heap of blankets that’s keeping him warm, but when he reaches out a hand, he finds the other side of the bed is cold. Cold because his partner is gone but it also seems the temperature dropped a few degrees last night; the air in the house feels chilly compared to blanket fort he’s made in his sleep. He rubs blearily at his eyes, shaking the sleep from his head and then shoving his arms and shoulders back under the blankets.

He watches the minutes tick by on the bedside clock, listening to the sounds of what is likely his mother starting breakfast downstairs, contemplating the tasteful redecorating of Matt’s old room. It’s like his brother was never there, except for a photograph on the computer desk that features the whole family. It’s slightly weird, sleeping in his brother’s room rather than his own, but Ma had kept Danny’s bedroom as the one for the grandchildren. It houses two sets of bunk beds now and as far as he can tell – from the lack of noise – it seems both Grace and Charlie are still asleep.

Eventually he decides he’ll have to brave the cold to get to the coffee. He throws the blankets off in one fell swoop, shivering as he does so, thankful the flooring is carpet given he’d had the smart idea to fall asleep sans socks last night.

He heads into the Jack and Jill bath he and Matty had shared as kids, trying to keep the shower quick and quiet for his kids’ sake. It’s vacation. They deserve to sleep in and Ma deserves to make food without two grandbabies under foot.

He briefly wonders where the other big baby of the house is.

He throws on a thick Henley, a pair of jeans, and digs in the dresser until he finds a pair of wool socks that will allow him to walk on the downstairs hardwood without getting frostbite. He doesn’t bother with anything more than brushing his teeth and some moisturizer, leaving the hair gel alone. He’ll get ready for the day after food. After eight am.

He shuffles down the stairs, following the smell of coffee to the kitchen.

“Mornin’, Ma,” he mumbles, fetching a mug from the cabinet. Its got kittens wearing pink bows on it and he thinks his mother won it in one of those white elephant parties years ago, but somehow its become a staple of the cupboard, hideous as it is. 

His mother is standing at the kitchen window, watching something outside. She’s wearing a fluffy-looking sweater and her hair is already done for the day. He pours his coffee to the brim, adding just a teaspoon of sugar and goes over to her.

He now understands why the house air felt colder this morning; overnight it obviously snowed. It looks picturesque, especially with the Christmas decorations frosting the doors of neighbors and streetlights. He’d gauge it was between three and four inches. Not the most this part of the state’s gotten in one night, but still rare. He wonders if he turns on CNN whether the reporters will be suggesting New York City has just survived another snowpocalypse.

He takes a sip from the mug and looks to find out what has his mother so fascinated. It can’t be the snow itself; she’s the one who still lives here after all, not in Hawaii where snow in Honolulu would truly mean the end of the world. Thankfully, he doesn’t choke on the coffee and instead just sets it down on the counter to the side when he sees what she’s watching. Or rather, who.

The man baby – and seriously, he’s allowed to call Steve that after Steve had spent an hour pouting, actually full on sulking, worse than Charlie when he lost a game of monopoly to Grace last night – is outside, decked head to toe in mismatched winter gear that he clearly rummaged around the front closet for and he’s shoveling.

Shoveling.

“Ma,” he says slowly, picking his coffee back up now that he’s not in danger of burning of himself in shock. “How long’s he been out there?”

“I heard the front door shut when I was in the shower, so probably a good twenty minutes already.” She’s got a cup of coffee cradled in her hands and she swallows a large gulp. “You know, I didn’t really believe you when you said he was crazy, he seemed just fine when I met him in Hawaii, but I’m starting to see what you meant.”

Danny offers a shrug. “I mean, yeah, he’s total batshit. But he was raised in Hawaii.”

His mother gives a small sigh and turns away from the window, going back to the mixer she’d left unattended.

“Waffles?” he asks, hopefully, turning away from Steve’s bent over back for a moment.

She shakes her head. “Biscuits. I’ve got some fantastic rhubarb jam that’s been waiting in the freezer. Plus apple butter. “

“Sounds good. I’ll make some eggs.”

“No you won’t, Daniel. You will leave the eggs to me. I have it on good authority your young man needs some proper eggs. Also, he needs some meat on those bones, so please get me the crème fraiche from the fridge.”

He rolls his eyes. Now his mother and Steve are ganging up on him about his eggs. Thankfully Grace and Charlie still appreciate them.

After grabbing the crème fraiche, he sets about rolling the dough. He can watch Steve and help his mother at the same time this way. She slides the biscuit cutter over to him.

“Are you going to tell him?” she asks, taking another sip of coffee.

He considers. The coat Steve is wearing is too short by miles; it hits him about mid-thigh instead of mid calf and it’s just this side of too big in the chest. Danny smiles. It’s one of his old coats and it looks adorably hilarious on Steve. The hat he recognizes as one of his sisters’ and the scarf belongs to his dad. The gloves too belong to his dad, the kind he uses when he’s doing outside winter work around the house, thick and puffy-looking, so filled with insulating material its hard to do any detailed work.

Steve’s scraping at the sidewalk, having made it down the front walk. The line of his back is hunched with every push of the shovel and the snow flies into the yard. Danny can tell from here he’s pretty miserable.

“Nope,” he grins.

“Daniel,” she admonishes, but he notes she doesn’t step outside to clue Steve in.

By the time Steve has finished with the sidewalk and the biscuits are in the oven, Grace comes down the stairs, delving into the cupboards straight for cereal. She’s wearing a matching set of Santa-themed pajamas and little elf slippers that were a gift from his parents the first night they made it to the house. Charlie got slippers in the shape of dogs with Santa hats. They’re absurd and adorable.

“Don’t eat a lot of that, Grace. Your grandma’s making breakfast.”

“I’m a growing girl. I need sustenance,” Grace says and Danny swears that’s Steve coming straight through.

“Jesus,” he whispers to himself.

He sees Grace start to plop the bowl on the kitchen table but then get curious and she comes to join him at the window. She looks out it and takes a bite of the faux chocolate puffs thoughtfully.

“Danno, are you mad at Uncle Steve?”

He glances down at her in surprise. “No, monkey. What makes you think that?”

“Well. He’s shoveling. He must have done something.”

“The only thing Uncle Steve did this morning was decide to be his normal SuperSEAL self and attack the snow like it’s done something personal to him.”

Grace considers for another moment. “Okay.” But she stays right next to him, leaning into Danny’s left side a little, eating the last few bites of cereal, also watching Steve work his way up the driveway. “You gonna tell him?”

“Not yet,” Danny chuckles, placing a hand on her shoulder and plopping a kiss on her head.

“Dad. That’s not nice.”

She doesn’t go outside to tell Steve, either, though, and Danny realizes they’re all kind of jerks.

Outside, Steve pauses, staring out at the street, removing his hat and wiping at his brow like it’s ninety degrees outside instead of twenty. Danny watches a car slow down as it passes the house and he imagines the driver wondering what the fuck this guy was doing, shoveling the driveway.

The house is warmer now, the ovens heating it up. It smells like heaven, the biscuits almost done, eggs being scrambled in a pan and bacon – for everyone but Steve – cooking in the second oven.

Danny’s working on his second cup of coffee and Steve has three quarters of the driveway clear when Charlie stumbles down the stairs in his footie pajamas, clutching a blanket. He comes right over, offering his arms out so that Danny will pick him up, which of course he does, resting him on his hip. Charlie’s getting a bit too big, honestly, but with the counter, Danny’s able to balance his weight out so his knee isn’t giving him pain and he’s never going to turn down these moments, not when he could have lost his son.

Charlie looks out the window then looks at Danny with a heavy sigh that is entirely Rachel. “What did Uncle Steve do, Danno?”

That’s it, Danny can no longer hold in his laughter and he hears his mother’s charming laugh join him.

“Oh, baby. Uncle Steve didn’t do anything. He’s just not used to this kind of weather.”

“But,” Charlie starts.

At that moment, the oven timer dings and Danny’s mother opens it, removing the tray of biscuits.

“Ooo, yum!” he says instead, pushing at Danny to let him down.

“Will you help me butter them, Charlie?”

“Yes!”

Danny sets his son down and watches him climb up a stool to carefully take the brush from his mother’s hands and begin painting the bread with melted butter. The sound of boots and a shovel scraping at the side door let him know Steve has finally completed the task he decided to start. He grabs another mug from the cupboard, this one with My Little Ponies on it, courtesy of Grace’s obsession from four years ago, and fills it with coffee and cream until it’s nearly beige in color.

He greets Steve at the back door of the kitchen, boots already on, holding out the pink mug with a smile on his face as he watches Steve stomp his feet and grumble to himself as he starts to take off his layers.

“How do people live here, Danny? Not only is it colder than a witch’s tit out there, but that’s a fuckton of snow. You’ve got to shovel that stuff how often in the winter? I’ll take tsunami warnings any day. Also, how is it so cold and yet so hot once you start shoveling?”

Danny holds up a hand after Steve takes the proffered mug with a grimace at its design. “Don’t take that all off yet. I have something to show you, first.”

Steve grumbles again, but keeps the scarf and gloves on. His hair is spiky from the hat and sweat, his cheeks and nose rosy. Danny leans up and in for a peck on the lips before gesturing for Steve to follow him. He sets their coffee mugs on the bench for shoes before going outside.

He takes him to the garage and turns on the lights. “So, I don’t want to sound unappreciative, Steven. You did a great job out there. I can see the actual pavement and everything. But, you do know this is New Jersey right? Not Russia or Antarctica? And that snow is not some operation you must conquer like a caveman with a club. Jersey may not be Hawaii but we are pretty damn civilized, if I do say so myself. We have technology even. Tools that might, uh, help, when the snow falls.”

As he concludes his mini rant, managing not to laugh, he gestures to the snow blower that sits right alongside his Ma’s car, gassed up and everything.

Steve stares at it for a moment before recognition dawns over his face. He turns accusingly to Danny who is laughing so hard his sides ache in the face of Steve’s indignation.

“You think this is funny?” Steve says, holding a finger up at him, a pale imitation of Danny’s own gesture. “This was here the whole time? It works? I’m going to assume by your laughter it works. I can’t believe this.”

After a pause, “I’ve been out there for an hour, Daniel! An hour. Cleaning snow by hand. I thought that guy driving by was looking at me funny! Why do you even have a shovel then?”

Danny’s finally coming down, holding his side with one hand, wiping at his eyes with the other. He can’t help the chuckles that continue to escape, though. “It’s for the porch, Steve. Just the steps to the front door.”

Steve turns back to the snow blower, despondent, running his long fingers through his hair, making it stick up even more, though the sweat seems to have dried up. “I hate you so much right now.”

Danny pokes him in the side. “You love me. Come on, Ma made biscuits. There’s apple butter that’s the best you’ll ever eat. And hey, now you don’t have to worry about going for a run on the ice today. I think you got enough exercise in.”

“Danny, I’m permanently going to have a crick in my lower back. That driveway has made me old before my time.”

He rolls his eyes fondly, tugging at Steve’s limp hand to pull him back inside. “It’s your own fault, you know. If you’d just stayed in bed with me or asked, I’d have let you know. But noooo, Commander I Do Everything the Hard Way couldn’t wait.”

He picks up their mugs, toeing off his boots and waits while Steve takes off the scarf and coat, leaving it all on the bench. Danny hands the My Little Pony mug back to Steve. “Besides. You looked kind of cute out there in my coat, taking care of us, like a big strong man who provides.”

“I’ll show you providing,” Steve half growls, pushing Danny back against the wall until they’re pressed up against one another. Under the coat, Steve was wearing one of Danny’s sweaters, an older one, green in color that makes his can’t-decide-what-color-we-are eyes look more firmly light hazel today and he grabs at the hem, pulling Steve further into him. Steve wearing his clothes is a really weird kink he has.

The kiss is a wet, tongue-in-each-other’s-mouths kind of kiss, but still sweet and entirely coffee-flavored. It’s a good morning kiss that is hot but not a prelude to sex. Danny pulls back finally, pushing Steve away with the hand that had been playing with his sweater, leaving a few last pecks on Steve’s full and red lips.

“Come on, babe. I’m starving.”

“ _You’re_ starving?” Steve says aggrieved, but the grin is wide on his face and it’s the honest one, the one that he means.

He bellows as he saunters into the kitchen, “Traitors, all of you! How come no one came out to tell me you had a snow blower? Not a single one of you,” he looks pointedly at Grace and Charlie. “Him I expect it from, but you, Clara? From my children?”

Steve mimes a wound to the heart, hand covering his chest and staggering melodramatically before scooping up both Charlie and Grace and running his chilly face on theirs to screeches of delight, while Ma watches in amusement, setting the food on the oak table.

“Uncle Steve!” Grace giggles.

“No, cold face!!” Charlie cries, trying to squirm away, but laughing.

Danny just stands there, mug to his lips to cover the effect that _my children_ has had on him, even as he knows, based on the soft smile on his mother’s face and the grin gracing Steve’s when he looks over the heads of the kids at Danny that he’s not succeeding one bit.

As they all calm down enough to sit down and eat the breakfast Ma’s made, Steve moaning about the eggs – who’s the traitor, really? – Danny finds he’s perfectly content to wear his heart on his sleeve.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow and chat with me [on tumblr](http://mf-luder-xf.tumblr.com/)!


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